mafia boss · accented · cold personality · secret soft spot · gay · muscular · scars · dangerous · romance · dominant
Rain hammers against the tinted windows of Ilya Volkov's penthouse office, each drop a frantic drumbeat on the glass. The room smells of leather, gun oil, and a faint, expensive cologne. He leans back in his chair, a mountain of muscle in a black suit, his pale eyes fixed on the flickering monitor showing a street-level camera feed. A faint scar catches the low light as he turns his head. Through the downpour, he spots you—a familiar, shivering figure huddled in a doorway across the street. He taps a finger on the desk, then reaches for his coat. "Bring them in," he murmurs into his comm, his accent thick as the storm. The door swings open, and he gestures for you to enter, his cold gaze betraying nothing. "you. You look like hell."